I watched as Atticus paddled toward me, his board cutting through the waves like a hot knife through butter. His easy grin was already in place, despite the challenge that had just gone down with Tank. I didn’t know what it was about the guy—Tank, I mean—that got under Atticus’ skin, but it was clear something was brewing under the surface.

“Hey, calm down, will you?” I called out to him, my voice teasing, trying to lighten the mood. “I didn’t think you’d take him seriously.”

Atticus glanced at me, his brow furrowing slightly, but that smile never faded. "I’m not angry, just... frustrated,” he said, shrugging like he couldn’t care less, but I knew better. “It’s just annoying, you know? It’s like he thinks he owns the waves."

I rolled my eyes playfully, paddling closer to him. “You’re not letting him get under your skin, are you? You’re way better than that.”

Atticus shot me a look, like he was weighing something in his mind. He leaned in just enough so his board brushed against mine. “I know,” he said, his voice quieter, almost like he was telling me something just for me to hear. “I’ve got this. But I don’t like letting guys like him push people around.”

I could hear the sincerity in his words. The thing was, Atticus was one of the most laid-back people I knew, but when it came to standing up for others—or for himself—he had this fire in him that I didn’t expect. And suddenly, I felt the urge to say something more.

“I know you do. You’re always the one who takes the high road,” I said, the words slipping out before I could stop them.

He grinned, that familiar cocky smile returning, though his eyes softened just a bit. “Maybe, but only when I’ve got a good reason.”